


Hold And Release

by Kuukkeli



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Bondage, Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, MTMTE, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 16:49:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4145280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuukkeli/pseuds/Kuukkeli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cuddles always work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold And Release

**Author's Note:**

> Bleb, again something I had to get out of my systems. Not sure if it's any good but I'm rather pleased with it.

Completely at Ratchet’s mercy; blindfolded, unable to move, free for the older mech to maneuver him however he desired.

Ratchet had suggested they do this someday and Drift was eager to comply. Not that this was their first time doing this but something felt a bit different than during other times.

The white mech was on his knees in the middle of the room, feeling exposed and ridden off everything he could hide behind. The full-body harness made sure he couldn’t move, though he still missed the gag and the collar. He heard Ratchet leaving him, the sound of his footsteps clearer and stronger now that he was blindfolded.

“It’s a funny thing how the other senses become sharper when one is taken away”, the medic mused while rummaging through a box at the far side of the room, “Let’s take you for an example; you can’t see but still you can turn your head to the exact direction to determine my location.”

And Ratchet was right. Drift could hear what was happening around him better than with his optics open.

“That means you’re paying attention to your surroundings”, the red and white mech murmured, right next to his audio, the deep voice sending shivers through his body, making him start and gasp. The other mech chuckled at the reaction and he put the collar on Drift, minding not to put it too tight.

Once he was happy with the collar, the medic knelt in front of the speedster to gag him with the spider gag which was their favorite. When Drift felt the cold metal ring against his lips, he flinched away and uttered a growl.

“Playing hard now, are we? Whatever you want”, the larger mech rumbled, amused, and rose to his feet, turned around and locked Drift’s head between his knees.

The swordsmech whimpered and tried to escape by squirming but Ratchet’s hold on his head didn’t loosen until the ring was secured inside his mouth and the strap buckled, keeping the ring firmly in place.

“There, all done”, Ratchet panted slightly from the little struggle his pet gave him, his arousal growing. It was every time as difficult but it belonged to these sessions; the older mech would have to force Drift into submission, to know his place. But the results paid off. Manifold.

He circled the bound, immobile mech on his knees, heard the huffs coming from their vents after the small fight and admired the sight.

Drift whimpered around the ring again, drool trickling down his chin freely, feeling uncomfortable all of a sudden. He felt the walls collapsing on him, the air around him suffocating him. Something crawled under his armor, slithered, tickled in the most disgusting way. His vents hitched and he started squirming violently, as if trying to free himself from the harness. Anxiety tied its tendrils around his body, choking, squeezing.

“Drift?” the medic asked, stepping closer to remove the gag so Drift could speak.

“Get me out of these. _Now_ ”, he whispered, his voice trembling and tight. He felt nauseous and dizzy, heat rolling over him in waves.

Ratchet was taken aback by the powerful push of Drift’s EM field, field that suddenly downright shrieked _get me out of these_ into his face.

“GET ME OUT OF HERE!” the speedster screamed and thrashed in his binds, his vents roaring as they strained to cycle air.

The red and white mech was quick to act and took the blindfold off and then began to unbuckle the harness, his field soothing, reassuring Drift he’d be free soon.

“I will, don’t worry”, the older mech said, doing his best at opening the buckles, cursing his slow fingers.

Finally, the harness dropped off and the white mech threw up, semi-processed energon spilling out to the floor, sticky strings of mucus hanging from his lips. Ratchet avoided the smelling flood just in time and gently stroke the shivering back while the younger mech dry heaved the rest of his tank’s contents, thick clear drool/mucus drippling slowly down to join the mess on the floor. What a moment for a panic attack...

“Are you all right?” Ratchet asked, though running a full scan on the other mech anyways. The scan detected risen stress levels and palpitation, a frown appearing on his face at the findings.

“I guess”, Drift croaked, spitting a stubborn clump of mucus from his lower lip. He lifted a hand and saw it shaking visibly and tugged it back to his body, trying to focus on the here-and-now, tried to focus on the soothing strokes along his back and the calming, familiar field brushing and probing against his own fluctuating, flaring one. His spark hammered in his chest, though the rapid thumping noise in his audios fading away gradually.

“That was a rather bad panic attack”, the red and white mech announced, his voice remaining soft and warm. He didn’t start questioning why Drift had a panic attack so out of the blue – the white mech would tell him at another time.

The younger mech merely nodded at that and made a move to get up, seeking for support from his companion. He was walked to the berth and laid down, a groan escaping his lips as the shaking and the nauseating feeling hadn’t gone away. He felt miserable and pathetic. He waited patiently, optics closed, as Ratchet cleaned the stinky puddle from the floor.

“I’m sorry”, he mumbled, weak and quiet, his optics glossy with tears that threatened to trickle down.

“Sorry for what? This? Drift, even though I had expected this night”, Ratchet said and that broken gaze was almost too much for him, “Your health and wellbeing goes over everything else”, he continued and sat down on the edge of the berth to rub one of Drift’s finials, a guaranteed way to sooth him.

A faint purr rumbled from the white mech’s engine, his head leaning to the touch. “So it’s cuddling instead?” he smiled; a small tug at the corners of his lips.

“Yeah.”

With that, the older mech climbed to the berth and closed his love into a real bear hug, strong arms wrapping around Drift’s chest and waist, pulling him flush against the sturdier body. Turning around to bury his face to the crook of Ratchet’s neck, the swordsmech sighed, shifting until he was comfortable.

“Love you, Ratch”, he muttered against the other mech’s neck, his optics closed.

“Love you, too”, was the quiet reply.

Yeah, this was way better way to spend the rest of evening, Ratchet thought to himself and planted a chaste, affectionate kiss to Drift’s forehead before dozing off.


End file.
